" "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. ” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. “I will have your true reason. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I could always 108 tell right away whether my new foster home was going to be good or bad.
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